


Did That Just Happen?

by FanWriter



Category: Sherlock - Fandom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-01
Updated: 2017-02-01
Packaged: 2018-09-21 09:37:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9541808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FanWriter/pseuds/FanWriter
Summary: Why John Watson is never drinking again.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry this is sounds rushed, but I was typing it out on my phone - and I'm not that great with text - and don't really have it in me now to do an edit right now. I suppose the inspiration for this came when I realized about every pairing in this fandom has been done but this one (at least, I can't seem to find one) and thought, why not. You have to admit, though, it could happen.

A pigeon gave a start and flew away at the sudden sound of loud laughter coming through the open window of 221A Baker Street.

''Oh, oh dear, you poor thing,'' Mrs. Hudson tittered. ''I think your finding a dissected foot in your sink trumps my finding a severed hand in my laundry basket.''

''Probably, yeah,'' John groaned, draining his wine glass.

After Sherlock ran off to the morgue in one of his moods, and after he'd put Rosie down for her nap, he and Mrs. Hudson had opened a bottle of wine and begun swapping horror stories of 'things Sherlock has done'. Mrs. Hudson was winning.

''Hmm, no, no more for me, thanks,'' John waved off Mrs. Hudson as she reached to refill his glass.

''Oh, don't be such a lightweight, John - we've only had two bottles,'' she said, ignoring him and refilling the glass anyway.

''Fine, but this, this,'' he emphasized, pointing to the wine glass, ''is the last one. I have to get back to Rosie.'' He glanced over at the baby monitor, surprised he hadn't heard her start crying yet.

''I think it's wonderful how you've been handling everything since ...''

John sighed as he though of his late wife. ''Yeah. It's hard to believe she's gone sometimes. Sometimes I wake up and ...''

''Oh, come here,'' she said, wrapping her arms around him, ''it's alright to still miss her.''

''Thanks, Mrs. Hudson. I don't know what I'd do without you.''

John stayed there for a moment, content to be in Mrs. Hudson's arms. How _it_ happened he didn't know, all he can remember is how warm Mrs. Hudson's embrace had been and then how much her lips tasted like wine.

SH-SH-SH-SH-SH

John let out a low growl as the sun hit his eyes and rolled to his back. He smiled as he felt a small foot traveling up his calf. ''Morning,'' he murmured.

''Hello, dear.''

John's eyes bolted open as he jerked his head to his left - and sees Mrs. Hudson, one hand propping up her head, the other modestly holding the sheets up to her chest. ''Ahhh,'' he jumped out of bed, then, realizing he was only clad in socks, started a frantic search for his pants.

''Looking for something?'' she giggled.

''Uhh, I was, um, where -''

Mrs. Hudson piqued up at the trill of the doorbell. ''Oh, that'll be my package.''

''Umm.'' John gulped audibly when Mrs Hudson got out of bed to get her dressing gown.

''Tell Sherlock I'll have breakfast ready in a bit. If he's back, that is. Oh, and dear,'' she whispered as she tied the sash, ''let's not tell anyone about this. You're not really my type and I know you're not in the best of places right now. It's best to just go back to the way things were between us,'' she said sweetly, patting his cheek. She gave a jump as the doorbell rang again. ''I'll see you upstairs, dear,'' she said running off.

John absently nodded after her and got dressed, trying to process everything. Numbly walking up the stairs, it took him a moment to register Sherlock holding Rosie on his hip and showing her something on the table.

''... now this is the nuclear reactor. It - oh, John.'' Sherlock attempted to look anywhere and everywhere before clearing his throat and keeping his eyes on the rug. ''How was Mrs. Hudson?''

John grabbed Rosie as he walked past and craddled her in his arms, as a child would a safety blanket. Ridgidly moving toward his bedroom, he muttered, ''Don't even, Sherlock, just don't.''

Sherlock sighed to himself and got back to work.

''SHERLOCK, IS THAT A BOMB?!''

Sherlock stilled, before dropping his tools and running out the door.


End file.
